


Prodigal Son

by httpsashtrid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF John, But he isn't that much of an asshole, Evil Sam Winchester, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Multi, Only When He's Drunk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stuttering Dean, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsashtrid/pseuds/httpsashtrid
Summary: When Sam is 6 months old, he is kidnapped from his crib and tainted with demon blood. He is taken to Hell to be raised by Lucifer, the Devil himself.Dean is broken from the age of 4. His mother got murdered, and his brother was kidnapped.What happens when Sam and Dean finally reunite 22 years later? It's a long battle between love, changing, rebellion, and family, and you're invited along to take a trip on the road so far.PRODIGAL SON REWRITTEN





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the much better rewrite of Prodigal Son! If the tags didn't make much sense, John isn't that much of a dick. I mean, his parenting skills are still kind of shit, but he isn't bad until he drinks.

The events of November 2nd went as fate may have it. However, there was one thing that changed the story drastically. Whether it was for the better or worse will be up to you, dear reader.

Mary Winchester was killed and strung to the ceiling. As Mary's empty eyes bore down onto his crib, baby Sam Winchester was lifted out of it and into something sinister's arms.

A small blonde headed child padded his way into Sammy's nursery, soft blue baby blanket in one hand and the thumb of the older firmly in his mouth. He peeked into the room and saw nothing at first. Walking further in, he looked into the crib. His eyes widened. Where was Sammy?

"Mommy?" he called out. "Where's Sammy?"

Silence was the only reply.

"Mommy?" he tried again. A whisper barely reaching his small ears gave him the reason to look up. He gasped and screamed. " _Mommy!_ "

"Dean.." she gasped out. "R.. Run..!"

Tears sprang to his eyes. His heart started racing. He searched the room desperately for his baby brother.

John ran down the hall and into Sammy's room. As his footsteps echoed, the fire began. It was slow at first, but as John got closer, it roared higher and spread quicker. Dean's eyes couldn't move from the ceiling. He was crying silently. The grip on his blanket was growing tighter and tighter. A flame was an inch away from Dean's tiny feet when John swooped in and ran out of the room and downstairs with him. John's horrified scream of his mother's name never reached Dean's ears. He was frozen. He couldn't see anything except his mother's bloodied corpse on the plaster above his head. He couldn't hear anything except his mother's barely there whisper. He couldn't feel anything except for the heat of the growing fire surrounding him. Everything else was nonexistent.

 

"I've returned with Sam Winchester, sir," the demon said.

Lucifer put his arms out for the infant. A wicked smile was painted across his face. The demon placed baby Sam into his grasp and bowed before walking out of the corridor. Lucifer smiled sweetly at the child before him. Sammy looked up at him with curiosity filled orbs. He gurgled in greeting.

"Hey little man," Lucifer chuckled. "It's nice to meet you finally. I've been waiting a long time for you." Sam giggled. "The two of us have the entire world at the palm of our hands. Anything you want from now on is yours." He kissed the top of Sam's head.

"Welcome to your kingdom, Sammy. As your welcome gift, let me give your your first meal."

Lucifer snapped his fingers and a bottle filled with red appeared in his hand. Sam took his first sips and was visibly startled. Lucifer laughed and hushed him.

"It's alright. It takes a few seconds to get used to."

Sam took another gulp. After that, it was smooth sailing. He finished the bottle in a few minutes. When Sam shrieked with laughter, his mouth was coated in the red liquid. The red liquid came from a random demon's body that lay in the corner, all of it's blood drained into three baby bottles. The bright light of young innocence shone in his eyes, but it would be replaced with something more sinister in the years to come.

 

The moon that hung in the sky was the brightest John had ever seen. The light that was in the moon must have been absorbed from Dean's eyes, John thought to himself sadly. His son didn't even look like the little boy Mary had birthed four years before. Dean was hauntingly empty. He seemed like a soldier that had just gotten home from a long and hard fought war. It reminded him horrifically of himself when he got back from Afghanistan.

He scanned the backseat through the rear view mirror. Dean was curled up around his blanket that he hadn't let go of once since he found his mother. He wasn't sleeping, John knew, he wasn't sleeping for tonight. Not a chance. There were no words to say to Dean, so John just took a watery breath and turned the radio up.


	2. Two

Dean was six years old when Bobby tried to get him to talk. He hadn't spoken a word since that night of the fire. Bobby and John had both attempted to get Dean to say something countless amounts of times. They failed miserably, needless to say. 

John was out on a hunt. He had a lead on Mary's killer. It took Bobby two whole days for John to finally agree to leave Dean with him. 

_"John, he'll be fine. I've been hunting  a lot longer than you have anyway. Trust me," Bobby told him._

__

_John sighed. "Alright. If anything happens to my son, old man, I'm allowed to personally kick your ass."_

__

Dean was sitting at Bobby's kitchen table. His little feet just almost touched the floor. He looked awake and attentive, like a soldier awaiting orders. 

"C'mere, Dean," Bobby said from the kitchen. Dean jumped down from the chair and carried himself to the older hunter, his little blue blanket still in his tiny fist. He looked up at him and tilted his head at a slight angle. It was his way of saying "What?"

"What do you want to eat? Anything you want is yours," Bobby told him. He opened the cabinets for Dean to look through. Dean stood up on his tip toes to get a better view. He huffed in annoyance when it didn't help much at all. Bobby chuckled and lifted him up. Dean's only response was a death glare. Well, something as close to a death glare as a six year old could do. He turned his head and scanned the shelves. He found a pack of Ramen Noodles and pointed at it, his head inclined. Bobby nodded and put him down so he could grab the orange package. Dean had traveled back to the table and sat down. As he was cooking, he asked Dean some normal questions, starting up a one sided conversation just for Dean to listen. Bobby noticed that about the little boy. He was always eager to learn more about anything, always ready to pay his full attention to whatever someone is saying or doing even if he acts like he isn't sometimes. 

"I saw on TV that there's this new mall not too far away from here. It has one of those indoor playgrounds in it. Does that sound fun?" Bobby asked him. Dean nodded enthusiastically. It made Bobby smile to see some sort of light ignite in Dean's eyes, something that was selfishly and abruptly ripped away from him at too early of an age. "Alright. We'll go after you eat. How does that sound?" Dean grinned and put his hand up for a high five. Bobby laughed and smacked Dean's palm with his own. "That sounds awesome, Bobby." He teased in a little boy mock, poking Dean in the side. Dean jerked away from the touch, a little giggle forced out of him. He decided to leave Dean alone after that. 

"You can go watch TV for a minute until this is done if you want," Bobby offered. Dean shook his head and walked over to Bobby, standing as tall as he could and craning his neck up, signaling he wanted to stay and watch. Bobby lifted the boy up onto the counter and sat him down. Dean dropped his blanket in the transfer onto the floor. He gasped and made grabby hands at the ground. Tears had sprung to his eyes immediately. Bobby was quick to scoop it off the ground and hand it back to Dean. Dean hiccuped and hugged it tight to his chest. One of the corners rubbed against his cheek. After a few minutes of sniffles and hiccups, Dean was calm again. The light from before was gone, but at least he wasn't on the verge of a panic attack anymore. 

Bobby fixed Dean's bowl and set it on the table after about 10 minutes of Dean staring over his every move while he cooked. Dean jumped off the counter and landed, shockingly. He almost ran to the table. The kid was hungry. He ate his food happily. He stuck his thumb in the air as approval and thanks.   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sam was two years old when Lucifer was teaching him how to get what he wanted. Sam had been talking for a little over a year now. He was toddling around, his thumb in his mouth. His chubby face had a mock of Lucifer's wicked grin on it already. He had his own room full of toys of all kinds. Each day he woke up and carried around a different toy. 

"Hey, Sammy, come here for minute?" Lucifer called to his son. 

"Coming, Daddy!" Sam yelled back and ran as fast as his fat legs legs could carry him. 

"Be careful, Sammy, you're gonna-!" Lucifer quickly grabbed Sam before he could smack his face on the cement floor. "Fall." 

Sam gasped. "I almost tipped!"

"Tripped," Lucifer corrected him lightly. "But yes, you almost tripped. That's why I tell you not to run, little man." 

"Okay," Sam smiled. Then he changed the subject. "Daddy, I want candy."

"Yeah? Alright. Watch closely," Lucifer snapped his fingers. At once, three well dressed demons appeared in front of him. "Hey, Prince Sam wants candy. You all are to listen to him as well. Got it?"

"Yes sir," the three demons answered quickly. 

"Tell the demons what kind of candy you want, Sammy," Lucifer said. He lifted Sam onto his hip. 

"Um.." The toddler immediately got shy. He hid his face in Lucifer's shoulder. "Daddy?"

"It's okay," Lucifer said. "Look at 'em. They're idiots. They aren't going to do anything to you. You gotta learn to do these kinds of things one day. You're gonna be a big man in charge sooner than later, as much as I hate to admit it. You're gonna have to do this every day."

"Every day?" Sammy squeaked.

"Every single day. It won't be bad, though. These morons will do anything you ever want when you want," Lucifer gestured with one hand to the demons in front of him. 

" _Cool!"_ Sam laughed. "I want.." He listed a number of different candies.

"Yes sir," the demons repeated in the same way they did with Lucifer. Sam nodded and waved his hand, dismissing them like he'd see his father do many times before. 

What a wonderful life.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean is ten years old when he someone makes fun of him for the first time. 

"Everyone welcome our new student!" his 5th grade homeroom teacher said. The children clapped. Dean's heart was racing from where he stood at the front of the class. Miss Smith put her hand on his shoulder, and he stiffened. God, he hoped she didn't notice. "What's your name, honey?"

"D-De-Dean," he said quietly. Speaking was still difficult for him. Cut him some slack, he just started talking again when he was 8. 

"It's nice to meet you, Dean," she smiled sweetly. "Go take a seat over there, okay?" He nodded and started walking to where she pointed. "I'll be right back, kids. Stay quiet." Miss Smith walked out of the room.

All eyes were on him. The breaths he took were sped up and slightly ragged. He sat behind a girl with long red hair and bright blue eyes. Freckles were scattered on her cheeks. 

"Hi, I'm Auburn. Your school bag is pretty cool," she said. Dean blushed.

"Th-th-thank y-you," he got out, smiling shyly. 

"Why do you talk like that?" another girl who sat to his right questioned. Dean blushed further, 

"I d-dunno. I've b-been tal-k-k-king like th-this for a wh-while," he answered. 

"Maybe he's retarded like Austin!" a beefy boy called out. Kids laughed. All except Auburn. 

"Austin is _not_ retarded! That word is really mean, Kevin! Leave Dean alone!" Auburn exclaimed.

"Aw, does little D-De-Dean need a girl to stand up for him?" Kevin taunted. Breathing was something that was slowly becoming harder to do. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. His blanket was balled up and hidden in the pockets. He rubbed his knuckles against the soft light blue material, trying as hard as possible to stay calm and not panic. 

"Shut up, Kevin! You're a jerk!" Auburn huffed and turned to Dean. "Hey, are you okay?" Dean nodded, even though he was far from okay. "That's Kevin Duncan. He's a total dweeb. He's mean to everyone. Don't worry about your stutter. I think it's cute." She smiled reassuringly at him, making Dean's face fill with red again. She laughed. "Would you like to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

"S-sure," Dean smiled. 

"Okay, class, eyes to the front!" Miss Smith called when she entered.   
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sam was seven when a punk little demon child was taunting him. 

"Hey, freak!" the demon called after Sam. Sam kept his face down and continued walking. 

"Shut up, Hank," a girl drawled. "You don't know who you're talking to, do you?"

"Seems like a little brat to me," the boy said. 

"That's Lucifer's son, jackass. Prince Sam? Ring any bells? His daddy could smite your ass in two seconds flat, and you wouldn't suspect a thing," the girl said."Come on out of your hiding, Prince Sam."

Sam stopped and turned around. 

"That's it," the girl said, smirking. "That guy is an-"

Suddenly, the boy has hands around the girl's throat. She screamed and tried to kick him off, gasping for air. Sam felt something worse than anger wash over him like a tidal wave. Everything was tunnel vision as he focused on Hank. Everything went black for 10 seconds. When his vision cleared, Hank was laying on the ground far away from him and the girl, blood flowing from Hank. Sam walked over to him and placed his mouth over a gash in Hank's neck, draining him completely. After a few minutes of silence aside from the sounds of Sam drinking, he stood and wiped his mouth. 

"You okay?" he asked the girl, putting his hand out. She grabbed it and pulled herself up. 

"Yeah. Thanks," the girl said. "That was pretty scary what you did back there, Prince Sam."

"I don't even remember what I did," Sam said, his jaw dropping. "Wow."

"Yeah," she laughed. "I'm Meg."

"Nice to meet you," Sam smiled a little. 

"Want some company on your Boulevard of Broken Dreams walk?" Meg asked. Sam shrugged.

"Sure."  



	3. Chapter 3

Dean is sixteen when he gets his first kiss. It's from beautiful blonde girl who taught him to play guitar. She was a year older than him at the age of seventeen. She was around his height, just a few inches shorter than him at 5'8 while Dean was 5'11. They were watching the football game one autumn night in Maine the wind blowing slightly. Her name was Luna Marigold. A beautiful name for a gorgeous girl with a laugh that made the world stop and stare. Her grey blue eyes caught his when she punched his arm.

"Dean, look! Garrett is going for the touchdown!" she exclaimed, her red painted nails pointed at the field. Dean's leather jacket made her look smaller than she already could be.

" _Touchdown!"_ he and Luna shouted, pumping their fists in the air. In the heat of the moment, Luna turned to him and kissed him deeply. Dean froze but kissed her back after a minute, wrapping his arms around her waist. Luna draped her arms over his neck. They were both smiling into the kiss, and they were panting out a laugh when they broke apart.

"Was that your first kiss?" they asked each other at the same time. "What?" they scoffed. "No!"

"We'll say it at the same time," Luna said. "Ready? One.. two.. three."

"Yeah," they both whispered, blushing. Luna shrugged and offered Dean some of her nachos. Dean took some and slathered them in cheese before popping the handful in his mouth. Luna laughed and pointed when she noticed Dean had some excess cheese on the side of his face. She licked her finger and swiped it off of his cheek and eating the cheese off the pad of her thumb.

The rest of the night went by too fast than Dean would have liked. Before he knew it, he and Luna were walking down a dirt back road. They were talking and laughing and playfully punching each others' arms. Luna put her hands in the pockets of the leather jacket.

Exactly where he'd hidden his blanket.

"Hey, what do you have in your pockets?" Luna asked and pulled out the soft blue blanket. She looked at it for a moment. "What's this?"

Dean's stomach dropped. His anxiety flared. "Um.. Th-that's my u-um.."

"Your baby blanket? That's what it looks like to me," Luna said. "Dean, be honest with me. Is this your baby blanket?"

"Y-Y-Yeah," Dean barely whispered. Luna smiled.

"Thanks for telling me," she said. Dean looked up at her, shocked.

"Y-You aren't gr-gr-" Dean sighed and tried again. "You aren't grossed out?"

"Of course not," Luna said. "A little confused, but not grossed out. I think it's cute."

Dean blushed and rolled his eyes. "Everyone seems to think I'm cute."

"Well you are, Dean. Along with funny," Luna stood on her toes slightly to peck his cheek. "And hot." Dean chuckled.

"Thanks, Luna," Dean smiled. "You really are amazing."

"Thanks," Luna smiled back. "I didn't know you stuttered. I noticed you would every once in a while."

"I _did_ only start talking eight years ago."

"Really?"

Dean nodded. "It's.. kind of a long story."

"I got a few more hours if you want to tell me," Luna offered. "I got this _sick_ place for us to talk too. It's this cool ass Pride Rock looking thing and the moon shines right on it. You're welcome to come sit with me for a while."

"That sounds cool. Thanks."

Luna grabbed Dean's hand, careful to place Dean's blanket back in his pocket. They walked for a bit until the scene finally came into view.

"Whoa.." Dean breathed out.

"Sick, right?" Luna gave a lopsided smirk.

"Totally," Dean agreed. A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting on the rock, staring up at the moon.

"My mom died when I was a little kid," Dean blurted after what seemed like an eon. "She got killed. Arson. Someone kidnapped my baby brother. Took him out of his nursery."

Luna gasped. "Jesus, Dean. That sucks. I'm sorry"

Dean laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. That's not even the worst part. I saw my mom's body. She was staring at me and she told me to run. I couldn't." He wasn't looking at Luna at all. His gaze was focused on the moon above him. Moisture slowly burned the backs of his eyes. "I could have died. The fire started, and I didn't even feel it. I was too busy staring at her. Watching her slowly die. To this day, I'm terrified of fire. I can still hear her scream. I can hear her last words." His voice got slowly more distant.

"After that, I didn't talk for four years. Mom died when I was four, and I didn't talk until I was almost nine. Not a peep. It was too hard.

"Since then, I've always carried around my blanket. No matter where I go. It's always in my pocket or in my hand. It's the last thing that she ever gave me," Dean smiled sadly. A single tear ran down his cheek. Suddenly he had an arm full of Luna Marigold. She hugged him tight. Dean was shocked. He'd never had a real hug in a long time. He hesitated for a minute before hugging her back.

"You're a real badass, Dean Winchester," she said into his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're a real sweetheart dweeb, Luna Merigold," he said into her hair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sam was twelve years old when he tortured for the first time. Lucifer had handed him the knife. A man was strung up on the Rack. Alistair stood beside them, a corrupt leer on his face. The man was covered in blood as it was, eyes empty. Sam was taken aback.

"Teach him what you know, Alistair," Lucifer said. "Remember, if he gets hurt even slightly, I'll do more than hurt you. Got it?" His tone was light and pleasant.

"Yes sir," Alistair answered.

"Have fun," Lucifer kissed Sam's cheek. "I'll be back in two hours to get you, Sammy. Be a good boy."

"Okay, Dad," Sam smiled. Lucifer could tell he was nervous.

"You'll do great," he said. "You _are_ my son, after all." Lucifer ruffled Sam's hair, making his son whine and flatten the mess down, glaring and flashing black eyes at him. "Adios." Then he was gone.

"Are you ready to begin, Prince?" Alistair asked. Sam swallowed and nodded. "Here's the thing about torture. It's an art of sorts. It takes practice and focus. For example." Alistair took a large blade from it's sheath on the blood stained table. He dragged the point from the top of the man's head to the tips of his toes excruciatingly slow. While he did this, he kept a close eye on the way the man's body and eyes reacted to the places it touched. "Watch your victim's eyes. After all, they say that the eyes are the window to the soul." Alistair cackled and carefully dragged the blade from the man's hip down to his knee. The man shrieked in pain, blood flowing out of the wound like an overflowing river. Sam winced and jerked backward.

"Please! Stop this!" the man begged.

"That's funny, Benny boy ," Alistair said, forcing one of Ben's fingers out of the tight fist he had made. He bent it backward slowly. "You never stopped whenever little Lucy said the exact same thing to you. What was it, '88?" A sickening crack echoed through the dark space, signaling Ben's finger breaking. He screamed loudly again, tears running freely down his cheeks.

"I had no other choice!" Ben exclaimed. "They would kill me if I didn't!"

"Didn't what?" Alistair shoved the blade through Ben's hand. Another earth shattering scream. "Rape that little girl? Kill her family? Better them than you, right?" Alistair handed his blade to Sam. "Take your pick. Do anything you want."

Sam froze. "M-Me?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Yes, you. You aren't just here to watch, you know."

Sam turned to the bleeding victim. His body was stiffer than it had ever been.

"Please don't do this," Ben pleaded. " _Please._ "

The sound of skin breaking came from behind him. Sam whipped around and saw Alistair had slit his arm open.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I thought you might need some more motivation to get through your first time at the Rack," Alistair said. "Drink up."

Sam took Alistair's arm and put it to his lips, downing the blood quickly. When he pulled away, his mouth was stained red, but his face was scrunched up.

"Your blood is _disgusting_!" he exclaimed. " _Gross_!"

"Do you feel any better?" Alistair asked, ignoring the Sam's complaints.

Suddenly, the energy that came as an affect of drinking demon blood hit him like a truck. He was smiling and laughing. His eyes flickered black when he turned to Ben. It was like he was a completely different person. No hesitation came when he thrusted the knife into Ben's stomach, dragging it up to his collarbone. The scream that came only earned a wicked cackle from Sam.

"That's it, Prince Sam!" Alistair grinned and patted him on the back. "Now you're getting it!"

Time went fast after that. Lucifer was there to pick Sam up before he knew it. The high from Alistair's blood was slowly draining from his system by then. There was blood spattered on Sam's face and everywhere else on his body.

"I see you had a good time?" Lucifer mused.

"Oh, Dad, it was _great!_ That guy's screams were like music to my ears," Sam exclaimed.

"That's good, kiddo. I'm happy you had fun at you lesson," Lucifer patted his head. "How about you go hang out with Meg for a while? I'll meet you back home."

"Cool," Sam shrugged and walked out.

"How'd he do, Alistair?" Lucifer asked when Sam left.

"He was very hesitant at first. I gave him some of my blood, and he shaped right up," Alistair reported.

"It's his _human_ showing up," Lucifer groaned and rolled his eyes, running a hand over his face. "I have to get rid of that somehow."

"He'll grow out of it soon, sire. Don't worry about it too much," Alistair told him.

"Yeah, you might be right. I just worry that he won't ever grow out of it."

"Give him another year or two. He'll be a teenager soon. It'll be smooth sailing after that."

 

"Don't remind me," Lucifer laughed a bit. "I can't believe he's turning thirteen soon already."

"Before you know it, he'll be ready for that mission," Alistair said.

"Too quickly," Lucifer said. "He'll be great at it, though. I know he will. Only ten more years..." The King of Hell turned on his heel. "See you soon, Alistair."

 

"Goodbye, my king."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comments are highly appreciated!

Dean was also sixteen when John hit him for the first time. From the time he left Luna, Dean's entire body was buzzing with euphoria. There was a goofy smile plastered on his face when he swaggered into the ratty motel room. John sat the scratched up wooden table in the corner of the room. A silver flask was in his calloused hand.

"Hey Dad," Dean grinned when he saw him. 

"Where have you been?" John asked.

Dean's smile faltered a little. "I was at the football game with Luna Merigold, remember? I told you I was leaving a few hours ago."

"No you didn't," John argued. "Even if you did, it's 11 o'clock at night. You had me worried sick, boy."

"Sorry, Dad," Dean apologized quickly. "We lost track of time after the game ended. It ended pretty late. Went into overtime, even. The game didn't end until 10:30."

John stood from his chair and slammed his flask onto the table. Dean jumped and backed away from John, taking small steps backward. Fear flashed through him.

"You spent time with some whore teenage girl all night, while you could have- no, _should have_ been here doing anything you could to contribute to the cause of finding your brother! Or did you forget that a demon killed your mother and kidnapped your infant brother?" John snapped. He was getting to close to Dean, and it was scaring him.

"Luna wasn't some whore, Dad. How could you say that? Of course I haven't forgotten about Sammy! Or Mom! I never _stop_ thinking about them," Dean answered.

John scoffed. "Could have fooled me."

"Dad, are you okay?" Dean asked. Without warning, John shoved Dean to the ground. Dean gasped and scrambled away from his father.

"Sam needs you, and you don't care," John didn't even have to yell. His voice was low and deadly. Dean isn't sure if yelling would be better. Loud noises always freak him out, but this? God, the quiet is terrifying. He isn't sure what's going to happen next.

_Is he gonna hit me?_

_Is he gonna yell?_

_Is he gonna leave me alone?_

Too many thoughts ran through Dean's head at once. His skull pounded. His breath was coming short and fast. Wide eyes stared up into John's. He shielded his face with his arms, curling into himself. Silence filled the room.

" _Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-rist-t-t-to_ ," Dean whispered, just to make sure. There was no way this could be his father. John would never hit him. Never.

That seemed to snap John out of his stupor. Clarity came and diminished any intoxication in his system. Looking down at his trembling son, he felt overflowing shame and self deprecation overcome him.

"Oh my God.." John breathed out. His hand covered his mouth. "Dean, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking _sorry."_

Dean's face peeked out of his palms. He couldn't speak. Tears ran down his fear stricken features. In that moment, John saw the little boy from years before for the first time in such a long time that it broke something inside him. He saw Mary standing next to Dean, wrapping her small arms around him. She was glaring up at him with so much angry fire in her eyes, it burned through John's skull. It was how Mary looked that time when she and him fought and Dean had heard. The three year old got petrified, and he started screaming and crying. Mary kicked John out of bed that night, replacing him with their sobbing son. The following morning, John found Mary curled around Dean, holding him close to her, protecting him from anyone or anything. Dean had his thumb securely in his mouth and his blanket wrapped tight in his tiny fist.

 

He reached out and tried to gently take Dean's hand. Wrong choice. Dean flinched back and made a small sound of fear. His hands dug into his pockets and pulled out his blanket. He his face behind it and rubbed his cheek against it, rocking back and forth. he started hiccuping and crying again. A panic attack was approaching quickly, too quickly for John to know what to do. Dean folded into himself and kept rocking.

"Dean, hey, breathe. Come on, you're okay," John whispered. It took a few seconds, but Dean eventually took a shuddering breath. "That's it. You got it."

"D-Dad-Daddy?" Dean murmured.

"Yeah, it's me," John smiled a little. Dean looked up very cautiously. He met eyes with his father and almost shrunk back. He saw his father smiling at him, and that was it. He reached out slowly for John's hand. It was like dealing with a wounded animal. John let him take it and gripped it lightly, assuring him that it was okay. Gradually, Dean came out of his shell.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," John said. Dean swallowed and nodded.

"It's o-o-okay," he got out.

"No, it isn't," John clenched his jaw. "It's far from okay. I hit you. That isn't right."

Dean shrugged. "I'm al-alright, D-Dad. D-Damn st-st-stutter won't g-go away for a bit, th-though."

"That's because I scared the holy hell out of you. You're upset. I know why this happens, Dean."

"I w-won't deny y-you sp-spooked me a little," Dean admitted.

"I won't do that ever again, son. I promise," John told him. Dean nodded. "I know you'd do anything to find your brother. I didn't mean a word I told you."

"It's al-alright," Dean assured him again, smiling.

"So what happened with Lacy?" John asked.

"Luna," Dean correctly lightly. His smile grew wider. "It was _awesome."_

_"_ Yeah? What happened?"

"Since when did you become a t-teenage girl?" Dean teased.

"Shut up," John laughed. "Did you kiss her?"

Dean blushed. "W-well. She kissed me first. She was my f-first kiss."

"Really? You? Dean Winchester? First kiss at sixteen. Wow. Late bloomer," John whistled.

"Shut up!" Dean exclaimed. "Missouri told me that you didn't have your first kiss until you were eighteen." He stuck his tongue out like a child. "So ha. Who's the late bloomer now?"

John glared. Dean laughed. What a whirlwind of a night.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sam was sixteenwhen he met Loki. He was hanging out with Meg and two other demons around his age. Brady and Ruby were their names.

Ruby was a firecracker of a girl. He was _definitely_ digging her. She was terrifying when you made her angry, but aside from that she was basically 99.9% sarcasm like Meg. She was a pretty girl.

Brady was pretty much that snarky jerk of a jock you'd find in high school. Sam liked him sometimes because he was literally the only guy Sam ever hung around aside from his dad. He made some funny jokes, ones that made Sam laugh in times of teen angst and the girls weren't around. Other times, Brady would get punched in the face from either Meg or Ruby for being a sexist pig. Sometimes both. And, man, you did _not_ want to piss off either of them. Both of them at once? _Run._ Occasionally, all three of them would team up on Brady just to freak him out. Brady liked to act like he was fearless, but deep down he was petrified of everything. It was really funny to just screw with him on a boring day of lounging around in Sam's huge bedroom.

"I'm bored," Sam groaned.

"Aren't we all?" Ruby said from the table where she and Meg sat. She was painting Meg's nails a deep crimson. Brady had left a half an hour before.

"Well does anyone have any ideas?" Sam asked. After a second of silence and a round of shrugs, Sam rolled his eyes. "Please, people, contain your excitement."

"I don't know what we could do, Sam. There's not much. I mean, this _is_ Hell, after all," Meg said. "We're a bunch of teenagers, literally in Hell. Ironic, right?"

"Totally," Sam laughed a little. He flopped back on his bed. "Let's see what the old man says." He took a breath and called, " _Daaaaadddd!"_

Ruby snorted. "You are actually a child."

"Duh," Sam stuck his tongue out.

"What's up?" Lucifer said as he popped in seconds later.

"We're bored," Sam answered.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "And you want me to do something about it?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you _are_ the king. You've been around a lot longer than I have. Surely, you'd have some ideas."

"Are you calling me old?" Lucifer inquired, narrowing his eyes.

"Perhaps," Sam shrugged, grinning.

"If I'm so old, then I don't know what you kids do," Lucifer answered. Sam whined.

"Dad, come on," he said. The big guns were in order. Puppy eyes accompanied his following statement, "Please?"

The king sighed. "Okay. I _might_ know someone. Might is the keyword. I've been meaning for you to meet him anyway."

"Oooh. A boy," Ruby and Meg taunted their friend.

"Shut up," Sam shot at the girls, making them laugh in response. "What's his name?"

"His name is Loki," Lucifer answered.

All three teenagers looked at each other with huge eyes. "No way," they all gasped.

"Um.. Do you know who he is?" Lucifer questioned slowly.

"Of course! Sir, he's the God of Mischief. Look how geeky your son is. We're bound to know who he is," Ruby said.

"I heard he's pretty good looking too," Sam added. Lucifer cleared his throat. "What? Heard it through the grapevine."

"Uh huh," Lucifer said. "Sure."

"I'd really love to meet him, Dad," Sam smiled all sweet.

"Alright. I'll call him," he said. With that, he was gone.

"Dude," Ruby breathed.

"Holy shit is a better term," Meg added.

"I know right?" Sam grinned.

"You're about to meet Loki, Sam. Fuckin' _Loki._ Go get showered, you heathen!" Meg got up and nudged the prince.

"Meg, you stupid bitch! I just finished painting those!" Ruby squawked. Meg ignored her and pushed Sam again, getting a growl from him.

"See, this is exactly why I called you a heathen. You growl like a weirdo. Now get up before I pull you by your hair," she threatened.

"I will murder you if you touch my hair," Sam said pointedly as he dragged himself up.

"Yeah, yeah, Princess."

 

 

An hour or two later, Sam was facing Loki.

"Hey there. You must be Prince Sam," Loki said. He had a smirk that made Sam's stomach flip.

"That's me," Sam smiled. "You must be Loki."

"The one and only," Loki answered.

"It's nice to meet you," Sam said.

"Same here, pretty boy," Loki grinned and popped a cherry flavored sucker in his mouth.

Sam blushed and ran a hand through his hair. "Pretty boy?"

"Uh huh. Oh yeah. You're a fine piece of ass, kiddo," Loki shrugged.

"Well you aren't too bad yourself," Sam bit his lip and smiled. This earned a low chuckle from Loki. His golden eyes flashed.

The day went by too quickly after that. Lucifer was keeping an eye on the two of them, but not too close of an eye. Loki was hilarious. Laughter was bubbling from Sam's mouth well into the night.

"Alright, Sammy boy," Loki said after seven hours of them spending time together. "I'm gonna get back. Doctor Sexy MD reruns are calling my name."

"You're so weird," Sam laughed.

"Damn right," Loki said. "Can I see you again?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't," the prince answered.

Loki stepped into Sam's space and pulled him  by his flannel shirt. He pressed his lips to his. Sam panicked at first. His arms finally wrapped around Loki's waist. They kissed for a few more moments before Loki reluctantly pulled away. 

 

"Wow, you're a really good kisser," Loki smirked. 

 

"It was my first time believe it or not," Sam ran a hand through hair. 

 

Loki whistled. "Damn. I can't wait to see you when you're matured." 

 

"And you are?" 

 

"Respect your elders, Samuel," Loki teased. 

 

"Shut up," Sam laughed and shoved him. 

 

"Goodnight, Prince Samuel." 

 

"Goodnight, Loki, God of Mischief."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was twenty two when he actually witnessed his father fall apart first hand. It wasn't his father's fault, of course. If he didn't look like his mom, it would be alright. If he didn't lick the inside of the black, plastic container of the nacho cheese from Taco Bell, he wouldn't be on the ground right now, comforting his crying father.

The two had just gotten home from the Taco Bell down on Main Street in the dusty, small town in Oregon. John was steadily taking sips from his silver, scratched up flask. The initials J.W. were engraved into the side. Dad told Dean that it was the only possession he owned that made it out of the fire, only because he was drinking out of it that night in front of the television.

The radio was on at medium volume. Dean was bobbing his head and looking out the window, humming quietly as he ate his cinnamon twists, careful not to scatter crumbs on the Impala's seating. The windows were rolled down. The wind blew gently, brushing throuagainan's blonde hair.

The two men were relatively quiet until the Impala pulled into the parking lot of Lone Wolf Motel. Dean stepped out with the bags of food and walked into their room. John followed, taking another long drag from his flask.

About ten minutes went by of the two of them eating their food and watching some stupid motel television soap opera. Dean acted like he didn't care, but John could tell he was invested in the story line by the way his eyes never left the screen. He'd finished his two tacos, and he was now devouring a bag of nachos and and a small container of melted cheese. Once he ran out of chips, he whined softly. Instead of throwing the cheese away, he dunked his index finger into the container and swirled it around, sticking the digit into his mouth until it came back out seconds later clean of all cheese. While this all happened, his eyes never left the screen.

John laughed softly. In this moment, all he could see was his dead wife sitting next to him staring at the screen instead of his very well living eldest son. It killed him to even look into Dean's eyes sometimes because he looked so much like his mother, especially now at the young age of twenty two. Dean's facial expressions were all Mary. Very few of them represented John.

When Dean got angry, it was like staring at the ghost of Mary Campbell-Winchester right in front of him. His upper lip curled just slightly to bare his white teeth as his eyebrows came together. His eyes darkened. Mary used to be the same way. Whenever the two of them would argue, she would do the same thing. She didn't even have to yell most of the time.

Dean spoke like Mary as well. He cursed like she did somehow, even though she never cursed with him in earshot. John remembered she'd burned herself while cooking dinner. She'd growled, "Son of a bitch!", holding her hand to her chest. She'd had a little scar on her hand for a month after that. Dean had been the same way. He'd cut himself with his pocket knife as he was sharpening a wooden stake for their next hunt. He groaned and hissed in pain. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed.

The apple never fell far from the tree when it came to those two. Dean was always closer to his mother as a baby anyway. Mamma's boy til the day he died is what he was going to be, Mike at the car shop told John one day. Seeing the scene now shattered John's heart. Dean had the same habit his mother had.

_John was sitting beside Mary on his parent's couch. The two of them were talking for a while about moving out of their parents' house and into a home of their own for what seemed like hours until they fell into a comfortable silence when something on the black and white TV caught Mary's attentive eye. She was eating a bowl of John's mother's famous nachos as she watched. Eventually, she'd run out of chips and only had cheese left. Without skipping a beat, she dipped her finger into the cheese and ate the rest of it that way._

_John raised an eyebrow. "I can go get you some more chips, you know."_

_"Nah. It tastes better this way anyway," Mary shrugged._

_"Yeah?" John laughed a little._

_"Duh. Instead of getting up and getting more chips that aren't needed, you could eat the equally as good cheese instead of throwing it away and wasting it. What if you don't have any more chips? Valid reasoning, John, don't question it. It's smart."_

_John snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Mary knows best."_

_"Damn right."_

"Dad?" Dean asked, worry in his tone. "Hello? Space cadet to Earth."

"Funny," John rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Maybe because you got teary eyed over there. Paul Hudson cheating on his wife with Rose Rivers really got you down?" Dean joked, but John could tell he was actually worried for his father.

"No. What's got me teary eyed is the fact that you know their first and last names on this shitty soap opera," John shot back.

Dean blushed. "Bite me, Dad, okay? There's nothing else on."

"Uh huh, sure."

"Seriously, though. What's up?"

John sighed and looked down. He swiped his liquid courage off the table, taking a long swig before replying. "Just uh.. Thinking about her."

Dean's face crumbled. "Oh yeah. That day is coming up soon."

November 2nd. The day that their whole lives changed.

"Yeah."

"What brought her up?"

"You."

Dean looked shocked. "Me?"

"That's what I said. You. It isn't your fault, son. It's just.." He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at his son. "God, you're just like her. You remind me of her so much. It's like looking at a ghost with certain things you do, Dean."

Dean was quiet for a minute. "How?" he asked after a moment.

"Everything. The way you talk. The way you curse. The way you eat. The way you hold yourself. You are your mother's son."

He saw Dean's jaw clench as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's not you, kid. Don't apologize," John assured him. He saw Dean's eyes tearing up at the thought of his mom. Dean was always very very sensitive when it came to her. He remembered getting a phone call from the school when Dean was thirteen when Dean punched some snot nosed kid in the mouth for saying a stupid joke about his mother.

_"Mr. Winchester?" a snippy sounding woman said through the phone. "This is Mrs. Gander from Harrison Junior High."_

_"Yes ma'am?" John replied._

_"Your son, Dean, is in very big trouble!" she said._

_John sighed. "What did he do?"_

_"He punched Henry Harris in the mouth and busted his lip."_

_"He did what? Why?"_

_"Dean was unprevoked-"_

_"Bullshit! That kid called me a stuttering retard, and then he called my dead mother a whore! Of course I busted his lip! He's lucky I didn't do more!" Dean's voice came from the background. "Dad, the old hag is lying! Henry is a school favorite, of course he isn't going to get in trouble."_

_"You will shut your mouth this instant! Henry did no such thing!" Mrs. Gander exclaimed shrilly._

_"Just like he didn't grab Annabeth's ass after she told him to back off, right? The hell kind of school system is this, huh? You condone assault and bullying. You can kiss my ass if you think I'm going to this detention for standing doing this entire school a favor!"_

_"Is this true, Mrs. Gander?" John asked._

_"Well, n-no one has any accurate proof-"_

_"No proof?" Dean huffed out a laugh. "I had easily ten other kids standing right there! Let me see, Annabeth was there, Freddie Edwards was there, Dustin Hawk was there, Jeremy Heere and Michael Mell, too. Shall I go on?"_

_"I'll be there in ten minutes to talk to your principal," John answered. "Seems to me that my son was standing up for himself and the happiness of others. Goodbye, Mrs. Gander."_

John was so proud of Dean that day. He'd given Dean a high five and took him to an arcade after that fiasco.

"I know you miss her, Dad," Dean said. "I do too."

"That's a given."

"But," Dean continued. "I'm dedicating my life to making her death not go forgotten and without justice, even if the police think otherwise. I will find my brother, and I will avenge my mother. Even if it kills me."

John was quiet as he stared his son dead in the eyes. More tears slid down his face as he saw the pure determination in his son.

_"I don't care what my dad says. John, I love you. I don't give a damn what that selfish bastard thinks. I get I'm his baby girl and all, but I'm nineteen. I can marry and be with whoever the hell I want. His opinions don't matter. I will marry you, John Winchester. I will have a home with you. I will start a family with you. If he has a problem, then that's his own loss, and his own problem."_

He didn't know when Dean's arms encircled him and embraced him tight. Dean was hugging him tightly.

"'S'okay, Dad. We're okay," he mumbled.

Watching his father fall apart killed Dean. His dad was crying on his shoulder, mourning his dead wife. Dean fought back his own tears. It had been three days from being thirteen years since Mary was brutally killed that night. It was thirteen years ago this time that life was fine. The worst he had to worry about was the shouting match he'd hear sometimes. He would prefer that over this. He'd prefer anything over this.

"What if he's dead, Dean?" John's voice got out.

"Sammy isn't dead. He's a Winchester. He don't go down that easy," Dean told him. Even though this was a nagging voice in the back of his mind, a constant fear in his heart, Dean lied to make his father feel better. Isn't that what people did? They lied to make others feel better? Parents lied to their children to preserve their innocence. Friends lied to each other about if they looked good in that top just to make their friend feel good. Paul lied to Rose to keep their marriage alive. Why not lie a little to keep his father from crying?  
____________________________________________________________

When Sam was twenty two, he got the orders for The Mission.

The Mission was literally everything Sam's entire life had been leading up to. All the workshops with Alistair. All the blood he drank. Learning how to lead. Everything.

Years had gone by since his first session with Alistair. Sam killed and tortured like it was nothing now. Things were different now. Sam went from a small, lanky, pale little boy to the strong, 6'5, scary, Prince of Hell everyone cowered in fear at as he walked into the room. Except for Ruby and Meg, that is. His best friends don't count, of course.

"Sammy?" Lucifer called through the closed door of Sam's room.

"Come on in, Dad," Sam answered. He put his phone down and turned his attention to his father as Lucifer stepped in. "What's up?"

"Texting Ruby and Meg again?" Lucifer asked, smiling a little.

"What else would I be doing? Checking the weather?"

"Maybe you might be switching it up a little. I don't ever know with you, kid." Lucifer sat down on his bed. "Anyway, I have to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" Sam asked slowly.

"You're not in trouble or anything. It's just that.. I have a mission for you."

"A mission? Sweet. Where?"

"It's.. It's Topside."

Sam's jaw dropped. Disgust covered his face. "Topside? With the _humans?_ Gross!"

"I know, I know. Good news is that you'll get to take your time killing one of those hairless apes up there," Lucifer told him. That earned a grin from the Prince.

"Sweet. Details?"

"In just three weeks, you'll be sent Topside to kill a man by the name of Dean Winchester. He is twenty six years old," Lucifer explained. "He is the reason for killing other monsters and some of your peasants in your kingdom."

"He's a hunter, you mean," Sam added.

"That's another way of putting it, yes. Who told you about hunters?"

"Oh, a book I read told me all about them. They say they're all for saving 'people'. Disgusting," Sam scoffed. "For all I care, this entire damn planet could be destroyed. The things inhabiting it are all a bunch of mud monkeys anyway."

"Channel those strong nerves into destroying that Winchester boy," Lucifer said. "You're my son, Sam. You can do this."

"Believe me, I'll do it. I'll have a hell of a time with it too."

"It won't be easy, kid." Lucifer said. "There's going to be some challenges. Though I know you'll be motivated enough, there will be consequences if you fail."

Sam's eyes widened. "Consequences? Like what?"

"There's nothing personal here, Sam, and this kills me to tell you.." Lucifer did looked slightly pained. "If you do not kill Dean Winchester in the span of one year, I'll kill him for you."

"That doesn't sound so bad. I'm sure he'll be dead long before then anyway." Sam examined his nails.

"As for you," Lucifer continued. "Along with killing Dean, you will be dethroned and put on the Rack for eternity."

Sam went instantly pale, freezing completely. "You wouldn't do that to me, Daddy..." he said slowly. When Lucifer's response didn't come, Sam's eyes widened. "Would you?"

"I have to make an example, Sam," Lucifer said, his eyes anywhere but at Sam.

Sam clenched his jaw. Terror filled his body. "So the people who I've loved and trusted my whole damn life would be happy to just turn their knives on me?"

"Trust no one," Lucifer reminded him.

Suddenly, the fear faded quickly and was replaced with fury. He looked his dad in the eyes, fire behind them, flicking to pitch black.

"Yeah, you're right. I made the mistake of fucking trusting _you_."

He was up and storming out of his room before his father could protest. Lucifer was stunned.

"Sam, get back here!" he called. Silence was the reply he got.

Sam was fuming. More than anything, however, he was hurt.

His phone pinged.

 **Ruby** : _Hey Sam u ok?_

Sam huffed a mirthless laugh.

 **Sam** : _Peachy_.

**Ruby** _: Where r u? I'll come c u and we can talk._

**Meg** : _Hold on, Moose. I'm on my way too._

 **Sam** : _On my way to the Rack. I gotta hurt someone, which is ironic considering what my father threatened me with today._

 **Ruby** : _No.._

 **Sam** : _Yep. We'll talk more when we meet up._

 **Ruby** : _K._

 **Meg** : _Alright. We'll meet you there in 5._

Sam slid his phone back into his pockets and kept his hands there. Meg and Ruby stood next to him moments later. Sam's rolling cart of weapons and devices was beside him. A woman was strung up in front of him. The woman's name was Jane. She'd killed three children after being horrible to her own daughter, enough to where her daughter ran away and still has issues to this day.

He grabbed a knife and dragged it down Jane's arm, making a very thin line of blood rise. He planned to take his time with her just as he was taught. Ruby was spinning her knife in her hand, while Meg was propped against the wall with her foot holding her up and her arms crossed against her chest.

"So what did he say?" Ruby asked.

"Well basically he gave a mission and threatened to put me on the Rack for eternity if I screw it up," Sam answered. His voice was nonchalant, but the girls knew how pissed he truly was. "So essentially, he's open to killing his son for the sake of his kingdom. Parent of the Year Award 2005 goes to, right?"

"Can I say something without you killing me?" Meg asked.

Ruby gave her a look of warning. "Meg, don't."

"Say what you wanna say, Meg," Sam said, taking the knife and shoving it into Jane's hand. Her shrieks made him grin a little.

"What I'm saying is that even though he's your dad, Sammy, he's also the friggin' Devil. You can't trust him. This is Hell, Sam. You can't really trust anyone," Meg said. She shrugged. "That's just life, kiddo. Believe me, I know from experience."

"She has a point," Ruby added. "However, you can trust me. Not too sure about Hell on Wheels over here."

"Shut up, Ruby. I've known Sam longer anyway," Meg glared at her.

"Yeah, yeah."

Sam sighed. Meg was right. "Yeah, I guess you're right. He's my dad, though, you know? I figured he would at least love me." He pushed the knife deeper into her hand until it poked out the inside of her palm. She was screaming for him to cease his torture, but her cries filled deaf ears.

"It's not like he doesn't, Sam. He just needs to get his priorities straight," Ruby told him.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Let's just hope this mission doesn't get me killed."

"Who is it, anyway? Who do you have to wipe out that's so important?" Meg asked.

"Dean Winchester," Sam replied. He pulled the blade out and shoved it into her stomach. He twisted the knife. Jane screamed at the top of her lungs, probably shredding her vocal chords.

"Dean Winchester?" the girls echoed.

Sam stopped to look at them, confused. "Uh.. Yeah? Is that bad?"

"Bad? Jesus, Sam, that dude is a freaking beast! He'll rip you to shreds!" Ruby said.

"He's been killing freaks like us since he was, like, four. He's insane," Meg tipped in.

"He won't be that bad. He's a mud monkey human. He won't be anything but a fly to me," Sam turned back to Jane, cutting through her gut. He laughed wickedly as she slowly died. He knew that she would reform just to have the same thing but worse happen to her again and again and again. That's what made it better.

"I believe in you, kid," Meg said. "All I'm saying is to be careful."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He wiped his hands on his jeans after setting his knife down. He turned to his friends.

"You feel better now?" Ruby asked.

"You know a good torture session makes me feel better," Sam smiled and cracked his fingers. "Still pissed though."

"Well, you'll be fine, Sammy. You survived with Loki flying out on you. You'll be fine," Ruby told him.

"That wasn't even that bad. He's a guy. More than that, he's a Trickster, for Christ's sake," Sam answered and started walking down the hall. The girls walked after him.

"You were pretty wrecked, kiddo," Meg added in. "Although, he was sort of a dick."

"He was very sexy, however," Ruby pointed out.

"That he was," Meg and Sam said simultaneously. They swooned jokingly. The three of them laughed as they turned the corner. Ruby said a quick goodbye and walked away.

"You gonna go back?" Ruby asked Sam. Sam sighed.

"I'm going to have to," Sam replied. He gave them a small smile that didn't meet his eyes.

Meg kissed his cheek. "You'll be fine, Moose. We love you."

"I love you guys too. Let's hope the night time you see me, I won't be on the Rack," Sam spat.

Meg rolled her eyes. "You'll kick it in the ass. Just be careful, kid, alright? Promise me."

"I will," Sam told her. Meg pulled him into a tight hug. Sam stiffened at first, but he hugged her back almost immediately. They never hugged each other anymore. After a moment, Meg regretfully pulled away. She cleared her throat and ran a hand through her long brown hair. Tears were pooling in her eyes, Sam could tell, but she tried to hide them. She was scared. So was he. He made a promise to her, and he was going to keep it. Meg has been his closest friend, even closer to him than Ruby. She's been with him through his first Blackout. His first boyfriend, (Brady. Yeah. He didn't mention it because he was, one, a bad lay; and, two, just a overall bad guy. Number one on his Regret Even Sharing Oxygen With list.). Everything. He would not let her down. No matter what. He will kill Dean Winchester. He will come home for her, and they would go back to being them against the world like it always has been.

"I'll be back, Meg. I swear," Sam smiled to assure her. "and besides, you still owe me that ice cream from when we were kids."

Meg barked a laugh. "Well, I'll get you whatever the hell you want if you make it back here after killing that smug son of a bitch." She looked up at him. Sam looked down at her. They met eyes. Before he knew it, Meg's lips were on his, and he was kissing her back. She was pressed against the wall. His leg was between hers. She was clutching onto him as if he was her last lifeline, as if he was the only thing keeping her alive. They broke after what seemed like forever, but Sam didn't let go of her.

"You come back, Sam. You come back," she breathed. Their eyes never moved once.

"I will," Sam repeated, his voice just as wispy as hers.

He kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the honor of Jared Padalecki's birthday, I finished this chapter! Yay!!


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was twenty six when his world changed for the second time. It was only a few days after his birthday when John disappeared. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary, of course, so Dean wasn't too worried. He did start to get anxious after a week without a call or a text from his father, assuring him that he was okay. He started to bite his nails after two weeks without a response.

"I don't know what to d-do, Bobby," Dean said into the phone after three weeks of his father being absent.

"I can give him a call if you want," Bobby said.

"Believe me, I've tried that. He won't answer my calls, my texts, or anything else. I don't mean to sound like a worried girlfriend, but I'm freaking out over here, man." He was pacing back and forth, back and forth in the small motel room. It held one queen sized bed that hadn't actually been slept in in almost two days.

"Try to calm down, boy. I'm sure your daddy's alright. Just being a stupid son of a bitch like he usually is," Bobby bit out. "I'll send out an all call for his whereabouts. Breathe." Dean took a shaking breath in and pushed it out. "That's it. Now I'll call you later, alright?"

"Okay," Dean said.

"I miss you being around to eat me out of house and home, Dean," Bobby said after a pause.

"Me too, Bobby," Dean answered. The line went dead.

He hadn't seen Bobby in about a year, and Dean hadn't called Bobby in about a month and a half. After the whole "You get off my property right now, John Winchester, or I'll shoot you so full of rock salt, you'll crap margaritas for a week" ordeal when Dean was seventeen, the Winchesters were forced to stay away. Dean sneaked over to Sioux Falls every once in a while, needless to say. Each time Dean's knuckled rapped on the door, Bobby swung it open with a broad smile.

The flip phone let out a ping, signaling that he had a text. He was quick to pick it back up and open it, scanning over the text.

_35-111,_ it said _, Dean. Go._

It was from an unknown number, but Dean knew exactly who it was.

"Dad," he breathed. "I'm gonna kick your ass when I find you."

He went.  


_______________________________  


 

Sam was twenty two when the day came. Ruby and Meg weren't allowed to come see him before he left, no matter how many times Sam complained and cursed. He was packing some clothes into a bag after Lucifer's recommendation.

"You have to convince the mud monkey that you're actually human, Sam," he'd said. Sam huffed a response and went to work.

A weak knock rapped against his door later on.

_Thirty minutes until he left._

"What?" he called out. The door opened.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam whipped around. A wide smile broke out on his face, something that hadn't been there for days since he saw Meg and Ruby last.

"Ruby!" He pulled her into a tight hug. Ruby laughed and hugged him back.

"Nice to see you too," Ruby said, smiling a little. He looked up and saw Meg leaning against the closed door, her foot propped up to hold her weight.

"Meg," he breathed. Meg opened her arms.

"Yeah, yeah, bring it in, Moose." Her voice was nonchalant, but Sam knew she was as excited as he was to see him. Instead of hugging her, though, Sam pressed a deep kiss onto her lips. Meg wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. The kiss was desperate and heated. It seemed like it went on for a long time, yet still not long enough. They were interrupted by Ruby rolling her eyes and clearing her throat.

"If you two crazy kids are done, we don't have much time before some lame ass, lower than us demon barges in and makes a fuss," she said. Sam shrugged. He pecked a final kiss on Meg's lips before letting her go. They stayed close to each other as Ruby continued.

_Twenty minutes._

 

"I have something I'd like to give to you, Sam." She walked across the room to Sam and set her beloved knife in his hands. 

 

Sam's eyes went wide. "Ruby, I can't take this. This is your favorite knife."

"It's gotten me out of some sticky situations. You're going into one hell of a mess, so I think you need it more than I do." Ruby smiled. "Really. Take it. Kick some ass with it. You'll bring it back when you come home anyway."

Sam laughed quietly. "Guess you're right. Thanks, Ruby. You're awesome."

"Well, yeah. It's about time you noticed," Ruby answered cockily. Sam snorted.

"I got you a little something too," Meg said. "It's nothing like a knife, but it's something."

With a shift in the air, a dark hoodie appeared in her arms. She held it out to him.

"I thought you'd like it. You have some weirdo obsession with jackets, so here."

"Thank you, Meg," Sam said sincerely.

"Aw damn," Meg and Ruby both said. Sam cocked his head a little.

"What?"

"You're getting all misty eyed," Meg said.

"A big puppy is all you are," Ruby added. Meg nodded.

"Shut up," Sam shot back, though there was no malice behind his words. "You two better get going before you get in trouble."

"Yeah, you're right," Meg sighed. She stood on her toes and kissed him again. "I'll see you later, Sam."

Sam swallowed and nodded. Ruby came and hugged him tight.

"Don't be a jackass," she warned him. "Don't die, or I'll kill you."

"I won't."

_Fifteen minutes._

 

_Five minutes._

 

"Alright," Lucifer told him. "Remember what I said. You have a year."

"I know, Dad," Sam said.

"I'm going to come check on your progress occasionally."

"I know."

"Protect-"

_Two minutes._

 

"Dad," Sam interrupted, exasperated. "This isn't some kid sleepover. I'm going to kill a guy. Chill out."

Lucifer sighed. "You're right. One more thing though."

 

_One minute._

"Yeah?"

Lucifer set his hand on his shoulder. "Never believe a thing that man tells you. Nothing. Not a word."

There was a pull on Sam's chest. It was time.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Goodbye, son," was the only thing he replied with. "Make me proud."

With one blink, Sam was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had been driving for a three hours nonstop. He was tired, needless to say, but he had to keep going. Dad could be anywhere in any condition. The longer he procrastinated getting there, the more danger his father could be in. The pain in his stomach from lack of eating was steadily growing, however. He hadn't eaten anything since the day before he called Bobby, which was two days ago. The adrenaline of sleep deprivation and anxiety kept him going for a while, but even that was going out.

"Alright, Dean," he promised himself. "We're almost to Palo Alto. Once you get there, you can eat. And maybe sleep." He took a breath and drove for another thirty minutes.

________________________________________________________  


 

Too many things exploded in Sam's field of vision all at once for him to recall all of them. What he can remember is that he appeared in the middle of an open field framed with trees. The wind whipped around him, making him shiver. He dug in his bag to grab the hoodie Meg gave him and pulled it over his head. He hummed, impressed.

"Perfect fit," he muttered to no one in particular. "Thanks Meg." Her name him smile.

He started to look around for a way to get to civilization. There were no lights, as it was the middle of no where and deep into the pitch dark night. A circle of fallen trees surrounded him.

_It must be a side affect of my pure righteousness in this world of failed abortions,_ Sam thought to himself with a smirk. No, he wasn't egotistical. He was raised to Lucifer, the creator of being full of himself. It drove Sam up the wall, so he'd learned to not brag about himself. Shut up.

He started to walk around randomly, taking in the landscape of the area. After a few minutes of walking, he found a pathway that lead to a back road. With a sigh of relief, he followed it.

_Doing great so far,_ he thought. _Pretty damn good._

His thoughts were interrupted by a bright light shining in his eyes. As he stumbled back and winced from the intensity, the smell of burnt rubber filled his nostrils, and the sound of breaks screeching to a halt pierced his eardrums. He looked up and saw a man with light brown hair and a leather jacket stepping out of..

 The hell is that?

_Oh. It's a car. Duh._

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" the man asked. Sam groaned quietly and blinked up at the stranger.

"Yeah," he nodded. The man put his hand out to help him up. Sam took the hand and pulled himself to his feet.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Sam," he replied. He saw the man flinch visibly at hearing his name. Sam's eyebrows came together in confusion.

"I'm D-Dean," the stranger told him after a pause.

_This is him,_ Sam thought. He took note of Dean's stutter.

"Well, Dean," he said. "Thanks for not hitting me with your car."

"Oh," Dean cleared his throat. "The h-hell were you doing out in the middle of nowhere a-anyway?"

"What were you doing driving out in the middle of nowhere?" Sam replied.

"I like driving in the back roads. It's better for me so I don't get stuck behind idiots on the freeway." Dean shrugged. "Now why were you back here?"

"Honestly?" Sam huffed a laugh as he wracked his brain for an answer. "I don't know."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You don't know."

Sam backpedaled at Dean's expression. He decided to use the plot from a book he read once when he was fifteen. "I got lost. I ran away from my foster parents."

"How old are you anyway?" Dean's eyes narrowed slightly as they traveled up and down his body.

"Twenty two."

Dean's gaze snapped up to meet his. "J-Jesus.. No.. There's no way."

Sam was lost. "Um.. There's no way of what exactly?"

"How long have you been in the system?" Dean asked.

"As long as I can remember," Sam said. "Why?" He stepped back slightly. As he did, the bright headlights of the car shone into his eyes again, making him wince. Dean's eyes never left him once.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "Sammy is a chubby twelve year old."

Dean huffed out a laugh. "God, kid, I've been looking for you my entire life."

"That sounds a little scary, man," Sam said slowly, looking nervous. "What do you mean? You must be looking for another Sam. It's a pretty common name."

"There are no Sams with your eyes," Dean said. "Your eyes have always changed color by how you're feeling. Just like they're changing right now."

"What?" Sam looked at him like he was sprouting three heads. Meg and Ruby had always commented on how they knew what was going on in his brain by his eyes.

"I'm sorry if this sounds freaky, but Sammy.. you're my little brother."

" _What_?" Sam repeated. "Sorry, Dean, but you're wrong. I'm an only child in a foster home."

"Put it together, Sam. You've been in foster care you're whole life, right? You were t-t-taken from us when you were six months old. M-M-M-Mom was killed that same night twenty two years ago. D-Dad and I took off that night too."

Sam's head started to pound. He squeezed his orbs shut and took a breath. "Okay, pause. This is.. This is too much. Thanks for not killing me, but I really must get going." He turned on his heel and went to walk off. Dean grabbed onto his jacket.

"Wait," he begged. "Please. At least let me get you something to eat. A place to sleep for the night. I promise if you don't believe me, I'll let you go in the morning."

Sam scrutinized him for a minute, pondering his options. He could just kill the guy here and now, but something told him that he should wait a while. Hear him out. He sighed.

"Fine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short guys. I'm lazy.


	8. Eight

About fifteen minutes later, Sam sat at a roadside diner with Dean. Dean was eating his burger and fries too quickly, and it made Sam’s stomach turn slightly. It wasn’t that Dean was eating his food messily. It was more that he was eating it fast enough to choke.

 

Sam had ordered a salad, as he wasn’t very hungry. He never really had an appetite, anyway. For the twenty two years of his life, he lived off the demon blood. Very occasionally he needed solid food. Meg and Ruby said that they never had to eat, so it was a question Sam had asked his father for years.

 

“Sam, you’re different, remember? Those girls are a bad influence on you,” Lucifer told him. After that, Sam had dropped the topic, not wanting to get Meg and Ruby in trouble.

 

Dean didn’t speak much, Sam noticed. He wondered if it was a normal thing, or it was just the shock setting in. Dean had flashed a very fake smile to the waitress as she brought their food out. After that, his eyes went dull, and he became distant, burying himself in his mind and stuffing his face. The waitress might have not noticed, but Sam sure did. He’d been taught his whole life to read people like words right in front of him in a textbook. It was only then that he was grateful for the more boring than watching grass grow class. Dean’s eyebrows came together as he worried at his lip.

 

“You okay over there, Winchester?” Sam asked, giving his a skeptic look.

 

Dean’s head snapped up with a, “Huh?” He cleared his throat. “Oh. Y-yeah. I’m good. Just thinking.”

 

“Mind saying what about?”

 

Dean’s gaze traveled for a moment. He mumbled, “Just all the hell I went through trying to find you.”

 

Once again, Sam tensed. “Whoa, man, you don’t even know for sure that I’m your Kim Mills in this Taken story,” he reminded him.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly. “I know.”

 

They fall into uncomfortable silence again. Dean sucked down the vast remainder of his Coke. He scarfed down the rest of his fries, looking as if someone would come in at any moment and snatch it away from under his nose. Pity filled Sam then. Fear of going hungry was never anything he had to dwell over, even if he wanted to eat. In Hell, he was spoiled rotten. Anything he even gave a second glance at was his in an instant. Apparently for Dean, it was just the opposite.

 

Examining Dean again, Sam’s suspicions proved themselves right. Dean was 6’1, tall, but not as tall as Sam. For Dean being twenty six, he shouldn’t look as small as he does. He looked skinny but not too much. Enough to raise some flags, however. The skin under his thick eyelashes was sunken in, showing that he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. His black t-shirt and flannel stretched over his chest just slightly for Sam to tell that Dean had had it for years, and it was getting to the point of discomfort quickly. The leather jacket he wore was too big for him. A hand-me-down, Sam inferred.

 

Even though his “brother” had this aura of confidence and charm, Sam could tell otherwise. Beneath the smiles and flirtatiousness with the waitress, Dean was exhausted and depressed. The way Dean held himself made Sam inwardly sigh. He stood straight and stiff. It must have been a habit from a life of every man for themselves. His gaze was always sharp, his guard up and dangerous like an active electric fence that ran all hours of the day, all days of the week. To Sam, Dean Winchester didn’t sound or look anything close to “a savage” or “a monster” like Hell had been making him out to be. He seemed like… a slightly anxious human who’s seen too much in his young years.

 

“Helloo?” Dean waved a hand in front of Sam’s eyes. After a few blinks and a pointed glare, Dean’s face came into view.

 

“What?”

 

“I was asking if you were ready to hit the road,” Dean repeated slowly.

 

“Oh.” Sam stood with his acquaintance. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

Ten minutes of driving go by. Dean’s mix tapes played through the car’s speakers. His eyes were on the road for the most part. His gaze only wavered to glance towards Sam occasionally, seeming to mumble something like, “He’s still here. Okay.” to himself before turning back to the canvas of dark gravel and slowly filling with color sky in front of him.

 

The sun crept above the horizon, the once dark sky exploding in color as the sun’s fingers paint it. As it did, words tumbled front Sam’s mouth before he could stop them.

 

“Hypothetical question, Dean,” he said. Dean hummed a sound of acknowledgement and turned the radio down. “If I were… your brother… would our father want to see me?”

 

“Of course he would! Duh!” Dean exclaimed. “I mean we _have_ only been risking our asses for you every day for, what, twenty two years.” His eyebrows furrow. “Jesus, I feel old.” He waved his hand through the air, dismissing the thought. “Anyway, Dad would probably cry when he sees you, honestly. However,” he rolled his eyes. “the bastard won’t answer the phone.”

 

“I take it this happens a lot?”

 

“The guy Houdini’s out on me more times than I’d like to admit. Sometimes he’s a-okay. Other times he comes back covered in blood, and I have to hold back smacking him in the head. Then I have to get right into work at sewing his Sally the Ragdoll ass back together again.”

 

“That isn’t okay, Dean.”

 

“Yeah well, not everyone can have white picket fence, three point five kids, apple pie lives, Sammy.” Dean snorted. “The Winchester’s Family Business: Saving People, Hunting Things Since 1983.”

 

“Well what is _the family business_ exactly?”

 

Dean sighed. “Now’s as good a time as any to tell you.”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” Dean paused a beat before continuing. “Monsters are real. Almost anything that’s ever haunted your nightmares exists. Demons, vampires, ghouls, spirits, wendigos, the works.”

 

Sam put on his best “shocked but calm” expression on, aka the one he uses whenever Dad tells him that something got broken the night he, Meg, and Ruby were playing around in a room they weren’t supposed to be in and he’d been knowing about it, as he was the one who broke it. Aka the one that’s saying _No shit, jackass_ mentally. “Holy crap… Wow. So I guess you guys track it down and kill it?”

 

“Good to know those people raised you to have a brain at least,” Dean replied. “But yes. Dad and I, among a lot of others, are like superheroes. We go around killing the evil sons of bitches before they can snatch you out your beds and eat you for Sunday dinner. It’s a dangerous and short life. No thank you’s, no standing ovations. As emo as it sounds, it’s a lonely life. People work hard and die young.”

 

“If it’s such a hard life, then why are you in it?” Sam asked.

 

“Once you’re in, there’s no getting out. Being a hunter means the only way you get out is death. No one is ever truly out.”

 

“Can’t you just stop accepting and looking for hunts?”

 

“If it were that easy, I would have stopped years ago and went to live with my Uncle Bobby. Evil follows you, bud. Once you kill one, the family comes after you.”

 

 _Well I guess here’s that demon you killed in ‘03’s family,_ Sam thought.

 

“Oh,” Sam said aloud instead. “What a life.”

 

“How was life on your end?” Dean asked. “Must have been pretty bad if you ran off.”

 

_Quick, think of something before he gets suspicious, idiot._

 

“Um…” was all he got out.

 

“You don’t have to say if you don’t want,” Dean added quickly.

 

“No, no. It’s just… I’m trying to summarize it all, y’know? I’m not very good with words,” Sam said.”

 

“Ah. Yeah, I get it. I suck too.”

 

After a moment, Sam had finally found the words. “Life with my dad was pretty awesome when I was younger,” he stated. “I guess it always is when you’re this brainless, naive little kid. I had everything I ever wanted.

 

“But then I got older. I turned twelve. I was starting to make a mind of my own,” he continued. “Then Dad… started to place more responsibility on me. He started to implement things from the family business into my agenda.

 

“After that, it was slowly leading up to me leaving. He got distant. About two weeks ago, he said something to me that just made me want to run.” Sam took a breath. “So I did.”

 

Well, it was mostly truth.

 

“Jesus. He didn’t hit you or anything, right?” Dean asked. Sam shook his head instantly. “Okay, thank god. I was about to have to kill someone.”

 

“Aww, defensive much?” Sam teased.

 

Dean shrugged. “When you live like I do, family is all you got. Your first instinct is to defend them.”

 

“Good to know you at least had that,” Sam scoffed. “Once I turned sixteen, my dad barely gave me the time of day. He introduced me to this guy once, but that was about it. That guy was a dick anyway.” He paused, shaking his head. “Why am I telling you any of this? I don’t even know you.”

 

“People tell me I’m a very easy person to talk to,” Dean answered. “I don’t mind listening to you. I can’t say I’ll be good at advice, though. I’m no Dr. Phil.”

 

Sam laughed a little. “I think you’re doing a pretty bang up job so far, Winchester.” Dean snorted.

 

When Dean pulled into Shining Star Motel’s parking lot, Sam’s nose wrinkled at the sight. Only humans would live in such conditions. His father would throw a fit if he were to see the way his son would be living for a year. He’d be lucky if the mildew and food poisoning didn’t kill him before the year was up.

 

Dean brought their bags into the room after he’d paid for it. The room had two beds. Both of them put together were nothing compared to Sam’s own bed back home. His own bed was softer and much more impressive. To Dean, places like this were his only “home” aside from the Impala. These ratty motels were what Dean slept in his whole life. This was the best he got when he wasn’t with Bobby.

 

“Sorry this isn’t what you’re used to,” Dean said, grabbing his toothbrush from a small pocket in his huge bag full of clothes and other necessities.

 

“What do you-?”

 

“I can see it in your eyes. If there’s one thing this life has taught me it’s how to read people. It sucks, I know, but it beats having to try to curl up in the Impala. I love her and all, but I’m too tall to be sleeping in those bench seats.”

 

With that, Dean walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving Sam to pick whichever bed was not as uncomfortable as the other one.


	9. Nine

Sam awoke the next morning to the sound of low mumbling from beside him. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened in on the conversation. (Not eavesdropping. Eavesdropping is childish. Sam was a mature adult.) 

 

“Yeah, Dad,” Dean said quietly. “Where at?... That’s not too far from where I am now then...Yeah, I’m in Cali,  _ like you told me to _ …. Where are you then?...” Sam peeked out from under his eyelids just as Dean stood suddenly, his movements fueled by the fire of his anger. “What do you mean you can’t tell-!” His rising voice deflated as his body sagged. “Yes sir.. I’ll leave today.”

 

Sam waited a few minutes before speaking up. He stretched when he slowly sat up, running a hand through his already messy bed head. “You okay, Dean?”

 

Dean perked up, his depressed stance and solemn facial expression fading instantly. “Huh? I’m good. Welcome to the land of the living, Sammy.”

 

“Sammy was a chubbing twelve year old. It’s Sam,” he grumbled. “What time is it anyway?”

 

“About five a.m,” Dean said nonchalantly. 

 

Sam did a double take. “Only five a.m.? Dude, you just got to sleep at two!” 

 

“I don’t sleep like the dead like some people,” Dean shrugged. “That’s a hunter’s life for you. The most he ever sleeps is four hours.”

 

“How do you function?” Sam gaped. 

 

“Keep on truckin’,” Dean answered simply. He stood from sitting at the foot of his bed. It was only then that Sam noticed Dean was almost fully dressed for the day. Back in Hell, if anyone dared to step foot in Sam’s room before eleven a.m., God help them. No one ever woke Sam up, no matter what time it was. If they did, they’d have to risk being on the other end of his wrath. It was never good. 

 

“Anyway, get up. I have a hunt,” Dean said, pulling on his boots. 

 

“A hunt? Where?”

 

“Jericho. Not too far from here. You know how to shoot?”

 

“A gun?”

 

Dean gave him a deadpan look. “No. A friggin’ slingshot. Yes, a gun.” 

 

Sam shot him a glare. “No. I don’t. Dad didn’t have a need for guns, so he didn’t use them or teach me to,” he answered. 

 

“Now that’s just bad parenting.”

 

“Oh yeah? How’s it bad parenting?” Sam snippy attitude was emerging quickly. His attitude was already bad, but lack of sleep didn’t help either. 

 

“For starters, I wouldn’t have my kid defenseless. Kids need to keep themselves safe in this world these days. Like I always say, demons I get. People are crazy.”

 

“I wasn’t defenseless!” 

 

Dean shifted his weight onto one foot. “You weren’t? Then what would you call not knowing what to do if a whackjob breaks in?”

 

“A good childhood, maybe?” Sam snapped. 

 

When Sam saw Dean’s stricken and hurt look, he felt a weird feelings pulling at his chest. His stomach felt funny. It made him want to immediately apologize for hurting Dean’s feelings. The pride Sam was cursed with didn’t allow it, however. Just as quick as it appeared, the expression on Dean’s face was gone. It was replaced by a clenched jaw and usually bright eyes clouded with anger. Sam simply looked away just as Dean did with a frown. 

 

“Happy one of us did,” Dean bit out. “G-get your crap. We l-leave in five.” He snatched his bag up from off the floor and stormed outside to the Impala. 

 

~

 

Dean was quiet most of the trip. The hunt wasn’t too far away, maybe an hour at the maximum. Cars were still a new concept for Sam, so he didn’t mind too much. The only complaint he had, though, was how squeezed in it was. His long legs strained in the small confinements of the space between the glove box and bench seat. Times like these make Sam wish he was short. 

 

The sun had come up already. It was six-thirty a.m. Dean had the windows down and the radio up. His face was stoic. Even with Sam’s boosted ability as a demon to read people like an open book, he couldn’t seem to find any trace of any thought or emotion from the driver. Needless to say, he didn’t like that very much. 

 

The car turned into a wide open field. Dean either didn’t see or completely ignored the NO TRESPASSING sign as he parked. Without a word, he turned the engine off and walked to the trunk. Sam followed suit, his eyes going wide at the sight. Weapons of all kinds lay there. A Devil’s Trap hung from the top, protecting all of it. 

 

_ Smart choice, Winchester,  _ Sam thought. 

 

“Before we start,” Dean spoke suddenly. “I have a few tests to run.”

 

The attitude was back. “I’m not some lab rat,” he snapped.

 

“Oh my God, stop complaining, would you?” Dean turned to him, his arms crossed. “I’m not using you as a lab rat. It’s protocol. I should have done this last night anyway. I have to make sure you aren’t some demon or something that’ll kill me in my sleep.”

 

_ Good luck with that.  _ The joke died in his throat suddenly as another thought hit him.  _ Wait. He said he’ll be able to know if I’m a demon with this test. Shit. If I refuse, he’ll know something’s up. Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _

 

“Put your arm out,” Dean ordered. In his right hand, he had a silver blade. Sam did as he was told. Pushing his sleeve up, Dean sliced a thin and shallow cut on Sam’s forearm. It hurt a little bit, as it should, but not as it was supposed to. 

 

“Not a shape shifter. That’s good. I hate those sons of bitches,” Dean muttered. He grabbed a handful of white grains out of a huge bag.

 

“Is that salt?” Sam asked. 

 

Dean nodded. “It’s not like I carry around a thing of coke in my trunk.”

 

“Seems like you have everything else that’s illegal though.”

 

“Yeah well. Salt burns the hell out of demons.” He grinned a little. “No pun intended.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, no malice behind it. “Funny.”

 

Dean flicked his wrist, sprinkling salt directly on the bleeding wound on Sam’s arm, making him hiss and glare. Dean snorted.

 

“That was for that comment earlier, you utter prick,” he said casually. “This is the actual test. Stand still.” He untwisted the cap on a metallic gold colored container with a cross on it. He flicked some of the liquid into Sam’s face, along with another pinch of salt. “Shocking. You aren’t a demon.”

 

“What wonderful news!” Sam said, faking enthusiasm. The only response he got was a thin smile. 

 

“Let’s teach you how to shoot a gun just in case your mouth gets you in trouble one day,” Dean said. He reached into the trunk and dug for a few seconds before grabbing a pistol. “Alright. Relax. I gotta guide you through this. Do everything I tell you too, okay?” Sam made a small noise of affirmation. 

 

After about five minutes of repositioning, Sam was finally at perfect stance. The barrel of the gun was aimed perfectly at an empty can of root beer that Dean quickly chugged down and placed on a tree branch. 

 

“Shoot whenever you’re ready,” Dean said from a few feet behind him. “Breathe.”

 

Sam took a deep breath. 

 

_ Bang!  _

 

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Dean breathed. “Perfect shot! Awesome job, Sammy.” 

 

Pride bloomed inside of him from the other man’s words. “Thanks.”

 

“Okay. Let’s get to the bigger ones.” He rustled around again. He grabbed the shotgun, replacing it in Sam’s arms from the pistol. 

 

Sam’s heart stopped. 

 

Dean was pressed up behind him, his arms around him as he positioned the gun. There’s no exaggeration when he said  _ pressed against him.  _ No space is left between them. Sam swallowed. 

 

“Do the same thing you did with the pistol. Breathe, shoot,” Dean said in his ear. Sam shivered, praying to whatever being that he didn’t notice. He took a breath. 

 

_ Bang!  _

 

“Another perfect shot,” Dean breathed into his ear again. Something embarrassing was going to happen if Dean didn’t move, the little shit. 

 

Sam stepped away and went to put the gun away in trunk again. He pressed it closed. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re a natural,” Dean added.

 

“You take back all the shit you said earlier then?” Sam said with an eyebrow raised.

 

“Now I don’t know about all that,” Dean teased. 

 

Sam laughed. “Jerk.”

 

Dean grinned and made a laugh low in his throat. “Bitch.”


	10. Chapter 10

The hunt went well. As well as it could have been, at least.

Dean almost died, but that's okay, right? No? Okay then.

The Wendigo snatched Dean and Whatever Her Name Was from under Sam's nose. It all happened so quickly. The four of them were running, running, running for their lives away from this thing, this _beast._ The stupid mud monkeys tripped and stumbled behind Dean as he sprinted ahead, leading the pathway from this marathon run for life to safety. Sam was close behind, rolling his eyes and scooping the man up when he tripped over air.

"I got 'cha." Sam panted out and kept sprinting.

The woman and Dean were farther ahead of he and her comrade. One moment Sam heard Dean barking out orders to the woman and the crunch of leaves and the snapping of twigs, but in an instant, it was replaced with a bloodcurdling scream.

"Hailey!" the man cried and slowed to a stop once they got to the clearing from which the sound was heard. Sam stooped down and grabbed Dean's weapon from the bundle of leaves it lay on.

His stomach dropped.

His heart lurched to his throat.

_Oh God, where is he?_

_Where did he_ go?

With a shout of " _Dean!"_ , the search began.

After approximately ten minutes of walking, the mud monkey began to question him.

"If this thing likes to keep its victims alive, why did it kill Roy?" he pondered.

Who was Roy again? Oh _yeah._ That one's the reason they were out there in the first place. Right.

"Honestly? I think Roy shot at it and pissed it off." Sam replied. _Which is exactly what I want to do to you right about now._

Normally, Sam definitely wouldn't be as lenient and merciful when on the topic of killing, especially humans that bugged the hell out of him. For now, though, Sam would have to settle. He barely resisted the urge to let out a dramatic sigh.

When they did find Dean and Harper, (Or was it Heather? Whatever.), they were tied up from the ceiling by their wrists. If Sam were to walk into the Pit and see someone strung up like that, he'd laugh. This time was different. Anxiety exhilarated his heart rate. Fear panged at his gut. He strode up to Dean's unconscious body and shook him awake.

"Dean. _Dean._ " Dean grunted and shot awake with a start. Blood covered his face and dirt packed onto his cheek and matted his hair.

"Yeah." Dean croaked. Sam was quick to cut him down with a  quick jerk of his head. Dean dropped down without a grain of grace and into Sam's arms. With every step Sam took, Dean grunted in pain, clutching onto Sam's hand. Sam sat him down against the wall.

"You good?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Dean groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut, blowing out a breath before giving him a response.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He took another deep breath. " _Son of a bitch.."_ he breathed. He rummaged around in his bag that Sam carried and pulled out two small guns. "Check it out," he said with a pained grin. "Flare guns."

Sam let out a small laugh. "Those'll work." The two of them grinned at each other as Dean spun the weapons on his fingers.

Dean stood in front of the small entourage, guiding the way as usual. "Alright, y'all listen to me." Sam took note of the small southern twang in his voice. He wondered how he never noticed it before. "Follow Sam. He's gonna get you out of here."

"What are you going to do?" Hailey asked. Dean's only response was a wink before he started off into the unknown.

" _Dinner time, ya freaky bastard!"_ he shouted. " _Yeah, that's right! Bring it on, baby! I taste good!"_

As Sam lead the others out of the underground chamber, gun poised in front of him, he could still hear Dean shouting to get the monster ralled up.

" _You want some white meat, bitch?"_

From his hiding place, Sam could sense something approaching behind him. He whipped around, and there it stood. The wendigo screeched at him. Sam lifted his palm, ready to use his powers to defend himself if need be.

"Hey!" Dean called. The wendigo twisted around, and Dean fired the flare directly into its chest. It burst aflame. Sam noticed that Dean's eyes bore into the flame with such a focus Sam had never seen him wear before. There was something more than just the fact of watching it burn in Dean's eyes. He stood far too close to the fire. Once what seemed like forever passed, Dean's eyes finally snapped back into focus.

"Awesome, right?" he said, plastering on that fake smile of his. Sam looked at him with a peculiar glance. All Dean did was wink. That damn wink. It could mask all of Dean's emotions from the world, couldn't it? He might be able to hide from the world, but he couldn't hide from Sam. After all, Sam was one stubborn bastard. May the curious case of Dean Winchester begin.


End file.
